Outside the Lines (16 page)

Rob

I was all set to fuck her brains out yesterday and get past all this building tension. I need this volcano to erupt. It's the only way I can think to get her out of my system so I can get back to business.

I was hard as a rock for her. She was wet and ready, and so damn sweet I wanted to eat her alive. That fine body was all laid out, mine for the taking: nipples so pink and perfect, and she was so goddamn tight I almost came just thinking about sinking my cock into her. But then she saw my world firsthand in the map work of scars marking my body—a glimpse at the monster. She looked up at me with those clear blue eyes, so open and trusting, and asked me what happened. Something shined up at me out of their depths that I'd never seen there before. I don't want to believe whatever she's feeling runs deeper than lust, but if it does, she's even more naïve than I thought.

I couldn't follow through. It's that goddamn conscience I've grown.

What I said was true. There's nothing I can offer her. I'm not the man she thinks I am. I can't even tell her my real name. If things go bad here and my family is found, her having any association with me will only put her in danger. I'm not going to make her a target.

I'm on the widow's walk, trying to pull my shit together, when the Port St. Mary police cruiser rolls slowly up the long drive.

Lee is at yet another interview, Ulie walked to the store a while ago, and I just saw Grant and Sherm head down the path to the beach. Even with Sherm in his cast, Grant has kept up their afternoon wrestling matches. So when the same cop who was here the night of Grant's party steps out of his car and moves around the Lumina, cupping his hands over his eyes and peering in all the windows, I don't move. After a thorough inspection of the car, he strokes his graying beard and turns his attention to the house.

I pray Ulie won't be back for a while. My hand wraps around the butt of the Glock in my waistband as I watch him make a slow circle of the exterior. His eyes drift up toward my perch and I press back against the shuttered windows. A few minutes later, over the crash of the ocean, I hear boots on the front porch and a knock on the door below.

The deep voice carries up from the porch. “Hello? Anybody home?”

I hear Crash's muffled barking from inside, but otherwise the house is quiet.

There's another knock, then boots moving along the length of the deck, stopping every so often, no doubt to look in the windows.

It's several minutes later that a car door slams. An engine starts. When I look over the rail, I see the cruiser turning around in the driveway. As it rolls slowly away, I watch it go and swear under my breath.

The Feds said local law enforcement wouldn't know about us, but this cop had no reason to be here today. No parties on the beach. No bikers in the driveway. Which means he knows something . . . or at least suspects something. Why else would he be snooping around the house?

I make a mental note to ask Grant who he's been fucking, then realize what a hypocrite I am. He's not the one who's been playing games with the local schoolteacher. I've been so sure he was our weak link that I never looked in the mirror. Turns out it was me all along.

*   *   *

I sent Grant to help Adri break down the carnival booth yesterday. Today, I dropped Sherm at school on my way to my last day of training at Spencer's. I didn't walk him in. The truth is, I don't trust myself around his pretty blue-eyed teacher. The way those eyes can see through me, I know it won't take long before I've given away too much. I don't miss the irony. I was so afraid she'd be able to read Sherm, but it's me that can't hide anything from her.

When I pull into Spencer's parking lot, Danni is leaning against a white pickup talking to a blond guy I've never seen before. I climb out, walk over.

“Don't know why I was expecting the Batmobile,” the guys says, giving me the once-over. “She told me you drive a blue Lumina too.”

PTSD Chuck. I don't know what the Batman crack is all about, but a steel rod of jealousy rams through my gut. He's the reason I have this job. I guess I should have figured I'd run into him sooner or later. I've already fucked up anything I might have had going with Adri, so thinking of this guy as competition is stupid, but I can't help it.

“Rob,” Danni says, “this is Chuck. He's going to be your sparring partner today. Figured I'd let you pick on someone your own size.”

I'm glad. She still has a welt on her cheek from our match two days ago. I don't want to give her another. But it's been two days since I left my little blond pixie half-naked on her bed after she darted me. Two days of blue balls and second-guessing myself every time I've thought about it . . . which is all the time. I need an outlet and I'm truly looking forward to putting my fist through this guy's face.

But for now, I take his outstretched hand, shake it. “Thanks for hooking me up.”

“Anything for a brother in arms. Where were you stationed?”

Shit. Adri must have told him that before I set her straight. I come out of an entirely different war zone. “Adri made the assumption I was ex-military. I'm not and I told her that.”

He barks a laugh. “That's just like her, always trying to figure everyone out so she can fix them.”

He's right. From the minute Sherm and I set foot in her class, she's been trying to fix us. But there's no fixing the unfixable. All she's managed to do is distract me from what I need to be focused on.

“Enough of the love fest. Let's get this show on the road,” Danni says, giving Chuck a sour look.

Was that jealousy? I scrutinize them on our way into the warehouse, how they walk in sync and hold themselves. They're comfortable with each other, but there's no outward PDA. I'm still sorting through possibilities when we reach the mats. They're old friends? Except Adri and Chuck are old friends, and I've never heard her mention Danni. They were stationed together? But Danni told me she'd been in Iraq, and Adri said Chuck had come home from Afghanistan. They're hiding an affair for some reason? Maybe it's against the rules . . . or maybe she's involved with someone else . . .

“Suit up, gentleman,” Danni says.

I move to the rack, pull my gear down. Chuck does the same.

“This is your final test, Davidson. Free-form hand to hand. There are no rules. Chuck is going to pull out all the stops trying to get to your client,” she says, flicking a hand at her face, “and your only job is to stop him.”

“What if I kill him by accident?” I say as I tug on my headgear, only half joking.

Chuck snorts a laugh as he pulls on a grappling glove, like he doesn't think it's possible. Which makes me want to do it even more.

“Then Elaine will be short a bodyguard,” Danni answers.

Once we're geared up, Danni positions herself at the corner of the mat. Chuck circles around to the other side.

I stand between them, wait for him to show me what he's got.

He approaches slowly from my right, giving me a friendly wave.

I glare at him.

“You the bodyguard?” he asks with a nudge of his chin at Danni.

“You really want to back off, buddy,” I warn, the leather of my grappling gloves groaning as I bunch my fists at my sides.

“I'm a huge fan,” he says with a grin, moving closer despite my warning. “Seen every movie she's ever made, like, five hundred times.”

“Sound more like a stalker to me,” I mutter.

He takes a step, moving to my side, his face pulling into a conspiratorial smirk. “You fucking her? Because holy shit, what guy wouldn't want a piece of that?”

I move between him and Danni. “I said, back off.”

He leans closer, and all the nice guy façade leaves his expression as he lowers his voice so only I can hear. “You fuck with Adri Wilson, and I will rip your balls off and feed them to you.”

His threat comes out of left field. In the half second it takes me to process it, he's buckled my knee with a side kick and has Danni in a choke hold behind me.

“Congratulations, Davidson,” Danni says. “You just got your client kidnapped and raped. Brilliant first day.”

I pull myself off the mat and stare Chuck down. “Won't happen again.”

Chuck lets Danni go and returns to the other side of the mat.

The next time he comes at me, I'm ready. He takes a swing at my face. I block it, grab his arm, twist. He rolls out of my grasp and tries to take my knee out again. I sidestep. He dodges my next strike.

For the next several minutes, we exchange punches and kicks, each deflecting the other. Finally, I manage to plant a roll kick into his ribs. He staggers back, but gets a grasp on my leg. Using it for leverage, he swing kicks at the other, taking us both to the floor. I bring my knee up into his groin before he can get ahold of me. My kneecap cracks hard off an athletic cup. I curse myself for not thinking of that when he grabs my junk and squeezes.

“Fuck!” I yell as all the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh.

“Get used to it,” he says under his breath, twisting harder.

I jam an elbow into his gut, knocking the wind out of him. His grasp on me loosens and I jerk away. I roll to my feet, kick into his ribs. He edges to the side and gains his feet, breathing hard.

“Not bad,” he says.

“You can leave my balls alone. I'm not going to fuck with Adri Wilson,” I tell him, still trying to catch my breath.

He nods. “Good. Then we understand each other.”

“Not really. Are you and she . . . ?”

He blows out a laugh. “No.”

“Why not?”

“We've never been that way with each other.” He shakes his head. “She's more like my sister than anything. If something happened to fuck up our friendship, there be no one left to keep me from self-destructing.”

A punch mitt flies in from the edge of the mat and hits me in the back.

“Less talking, more fighting!” Danni shouts.

I glance over my shoulder at her. That same sour look is back on her face. She's definitely jealous. What I'm not sure of is whether it's because there's something between her and Chuck, or that she
wants
there to be something between them.

In the spit second before I look back at Chuck, his gloved fist cuts up from underneath and connects with the underside of my jaw, knocking me back a step.

The asshole likes the sneak attack.

I'm mid-stagger when he launches into me. His shoulder, like a missile to my gut, knocks the wind out of me. I go down hard and the next instant, his fists are pistoning into my face.

I manage an uppercut that throws off his balance. He rolls over his shoulder and to his feet, unleashing a kick into my ribs as I try to stand. When he comes at me again, I grab his leg, twist, send him to the mat. I stomp his chest. In the second all the air rushes out of his lungs, I twist his arm, rolling him to his stomach. I crank it behind him, force his face to the mat.

I plant my knee in his back and look up at Danni. “Why are you still standing there? You should have run screaming for the limo by now.”

She nods. “I guess that's a pass.”

I let go of Chuck. We both gain our feet.

His face goes all protective big brother. “I went easy because you need this job and I think you can do it. But if you hurt Adri, just know, I
will
kill you.”

I want to hate this guy, but if he's this protective of Adri, I can't.

We shuck off our gear. My suspicion is confirmed when Danni plucks at Chuck's sweaty T-shirt.

“So, tonight? Around ten?” she asks.

“Sounds about right,” he answers.

A suggestive smile tugs at Danni's mouth. “Anything I should bring?”

He rakes his sweaty hair off his forehead, shrugs. “You know what I need.”

I start toward the exit, giving them some space. Chuck follows me. No good-bye kiss, not even a hug, which makes me wonder what their deal is.

“Davidson!” Elaine calls as we're walking past the offices on my way to the door. I turn and see her moving toward me with a folder in her hand.

“Have a good one, bro,” Chuck says holding up his fist. “If you ever want to grab a beer or whatever, give me a call.”

I bump his knuckles.

He turns to Elaine and pulls her into a one-armed hug. “You just keep getting hotter.”

She lets out a sultry chuckle. “Watch yourself. Hitting on the boss is grounds for dismissal.”

“I'm more worried about Steve,” he says with a wink as he lets her go. “We're working together tomorrow and he'll be armed.”

She laughs again. “You all set for Atlanta?”

He nods. “He's picking up the client and flying us out at oh-seven-thirty.”

“Go get some rest,” she tells him.

He gives me a wave as he heads out the door.

I turn to Elaine. “So, you've got a job for me?”

She holds up the folder. “A client's coming in to Miami for a charity dinner next Saturday. You'll leave here at one and go with the driver to pick her up at the airport. She'll need an hour or so at her hotel to change, then you'll escort her to the dinner. When it's over, you'll deposit her back at the hotel. You should be done and back here by one in the morning.”

“No overnight?”

She shakes her head.

“Sounds pretty routine. Why does she think she needs a bodyguard?”

She hands me the folder. I've never listened to note of country music, but I know the name. “She's had bad experiences with rabid fans. Ninety-nine percent of the time, you're just there to intimidate the crazies into thinking twice before they try to grope your client.”

“I can probably handle that,” I say, thumbing through the papers.

“That's her itinerary and a map of the route our driver will take. You need to make your dry run of the event venue tomorrow at about the time of the dinner,” she says, pointing at the itinerary, “and put together your risk assessment by Monday so we have time to make any necessary adjustments.”